


we're in for a ride

by luciole_etoile



Series: headcanons [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Headcanon list, Papyrus Knows More Than He Lets On, Papyrus Needs A Hug, Papyrus Remembers Resets, Papyrus-centric, Sad Papyrus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:02:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10916751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciole_etoile/pseuds/luciole_etoile
Summary: He has bad dreams at night, and they're not all spaghetti and meatballs.





	we're in for a ride

Despite what Sans thought, he wasn’t completely oblivious to everything. He knew that Sans’ dreams were more than ‘just’ nightmares. They affected him so strongly that he grew tired of moving around, they gave him that weird look and those bags under his eyes. His older brother was his favorite person in the world, and sitting here, just watching time go by as Sans continued to change and change… 

He couldn’t handle it, and soon enough, he ended up like Sans, too. But he wasn’t sure if you could say he was worse.

The symptoms of the Pun Disease are a lack of sleep at night time, an impressive amount of naps, a large amount of puns and need for bad jokes, a lackadaisical attitude, sudden sickness, bad dreams which may or may not be consistent, dark bags under the eyes, a need for solitude, and--

 

A lack of hope.

 

An absence of will.

 

An attitude that suggests the affected will easily give up.

 

…

 

Papyrus puts a palm to his eyes and with his palm jutting out slightly, rubs his eyes. They seem to be slowly gaining dark bags underneath them, and he fears his handsome, stylish appearance will one day be ruined by a possible airport luggage claim of heavy baggage beneath his eyes. He can’t afford that, so he sleeps as much as he can during the night, but even though he tries his best to get at least six hours, the Great Papyrus does not operate well with such ruinous conditions.

He’s been having trouble sleeping, going to sleep only to get flashes of images and scenes too real not to be true, and then waking up only an hour after falling asleep. Sometimes, he doesn’t remember any of his dreams. Sometimes, there’s only short flashes, or there’s nothing there at all. Once, his dream was of being watched endlessly, while the black nothingness surrounded him and enveloped him, almost digging into his head--

It felt like he was drowning, and when he woke up, he almost didn’t want to get out of bed. The soft covers were warm and comforting, like the feeling of his brother hugging him after a bad dream and --

Where was Sans?

He remembers something from the dream, a red scarf, his red scarf, billowing in the wind, and a blue jacket stained in dust. But when that figure turned around, there was something red, like ketchup, smeared all over his white tank top. And that figure had smiled, although he knew it was Sans (who else wore such a cool jacket?) his face had been missing in the dream. The scenes passed by like photographs and memories, and before he knew it, he was standing in front of someone looking eerily like the human-- but not. 

All monsters had magic-- it made up their bodies and minds and SOULs and it was what, in the end, turned them to dust. All of that magic that held them together let go, and all that physically remained was dust. That magic had particular ways of turning different colors, heck, even giving off auras.

Frisk was not a mage, but they could use magic and though they never told Papyrus, he had already known. Their magic felt odd, strong and solid but always flopping about like a limp noodle. Like a waving tree branch in the wind, constantly ruffling and moving, but the water ripped from something unknown and--

He was getting lost in his thoughts. Where was Sans.

Papyrus got out of bed mechanically, not checking to see what time it was. He didn’t need to know what the time was, but where hell Sans was. Even if he had made it up to make Sans smile, he eventually did get a sense of ‘brotherly intuition’. And his brotherly intuition was screaming at him from behind a thick, locked door, and he was never one to ignore gut feelings when it came to family.

 

( _ Sans was all that was left after someone left. Why can’t he remember? Who left them? Why, why? What if Sans leaves too? Sans, please don’t go--! _ )

( **Shhhh** .  **Important memories were best left alone, especially if they were forgotten on purpose.** )

 

He came to his senses in front of a locked door, the short walk there, down the hall, quick, happening as soon as he blinked. “Sans? Are you awake?” He knocks, politely. Sometimes Sans won’t notice that Papyrus is calling him and zones out. If Papyrus knocks, he’ll definitely notice, because his brother is very in tune with his surroundings.

He’s almost wary of everything, and it makes Papyrus sad.

Why does he need to be so scared?

  
  


Papyrus stands there, in front of Sans’ door for a while. It feels like half an hour to him, and it probably is. He slowly grows tired of standing and knocking, so instead, he tries the doorknob and-- yeah, no. Still locked. Sighing, the tall skeleton lets his skull go slack and hit the door with a dull ‘thump’ and--

 

_ Thud! _

 

An answering noise greets him, unbidden, his exasperated smile crossing his face at the silly image of Sans falling off his bed in a blanket burrito, most likely.

 

He decides to try knocking again, now that Sans is actually somewhat awake and more likely to hear his knocking. His knuckles are a bit sore from the consistent noise-making they have been doing, but he wears his gloves to sleep, so it’s okay. It’s kind of like how Sans wears socks, although they don’t feel the cold. It’s a bit silly, but wearing his gloves makes him feel better. Safer and more at home, because he always wears his gloves nowadays, and without them, he feels a bit insecure.

When Papyrus was younger, he used to wear gloves a lot, because it was cold in the house and outside-- the snow was more intense back then, the windows not think enough to keep out the chill. But now, it’s always warm and familiar in the house, the sound of the TV quietly murmuring and Sans’ still form napping on their lumpy green couch calming.

Papyrus finds a lot of things calming, and it’s a good thing. He often needs it. Just a bit of reassurance, to let him know where he is, that he isn’t still asleep. This is real. He’s real. His brother is real.

Everything will be okay, and if not okay, then it will get better.

It has to.   
  


Sans still hasn’t answered the door, but Papyrus’ hand will never tire of hitting on it! He’ll wait as long as it takes to have Sans come to the door, because it’s his brother’s decision if he wants to keep to his privacy and the comfort of his blankets. However, Papyrus had to get out of his blankets for the silly spidey senses of his, so Sans was going to eventually answer, or Papyrus would have gotten out of bed for nothing.

“Sanssssssssssss.” He slurs Sans’ name aloud, his voice raspy from not having hydrated himself sufficiently. “Sooooomethin’ ‘s wronnnng.”

 

And no one answers, because Sans is a jerk in the morning.

 

If that’s how it’s gonna be, brother.

Papyrus decides something, and he opens the door with a loud bang.

“Goooooood morning, Sans!”

Sans is curled up like a bug under his bedsheets, and that multicolored light is coming out of his skull again. He’s having one of those really, really, really bad dreams right now, going off of how intense his trembling is. Papyrus takes a few strides towards Sans before curling around him and sprawling out on the floor, his thin limbs taking up the most space. “Saaaaaans.”

Sans seems to curl up tighter, ignoring his brother’s calls.

“Saaaaaaans, stop being a rolly polly and waaaaaaake upppppp.”

Even with the loud bang Papyrus had entered with, Sans did not wake up. So Papyrus resorts to face patting, and he continues to go from there until he’s very close to doing that thing that makes Sans jolt when he’s awake.

And then, Sans awakens, without Papyrus having to poke his femur or something, and it’s not good.

  
  


“Sans, I had a bad dream.”

_ “I don’t like my dream.” _

**“I had a bad feeling.”**

**_“Can I sleep with you tonight?”_ **

 

“....”

 

“sure, bro.”

  
  


It’s scary. So, so scary. But he’s willing hold himself up for Sans’ sake. 

**Author's Note:**

> i /almost/ hate myself for that summary.


End file.
